


Meeting Your Heroes

by justthehiddles



Series: Meeting Your Heroes [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: ACE Comic Con, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Comic-Con, Gen, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Questions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23141437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justthehiddles/pseuds/justthehiddles
Summary: You have Tom sign a commissioned print at comic-con when he discovers that you write a parody blog pretending to be his publicist, Luke.  You somehow end up having dinner with Tom
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston & Reader
Series: Meeting Your Heroes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689112
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	Meeting Your Heroes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I wrote as a birthday present for myself. It is very self-indulgent and self insert. It is not romantic but platonic. I honestly don’t care if anyone else likes this story because I wrote this 100% for me. But I still wanted to share because I loved how it turned out. I also wrote this before all the cons were being canceled. Sorry.

You shuffled your feet in the slow moving line as you shifted the papers from one hand to another. You rubbed your palms on your jeans, wiping the non-existent sweat.

Over a hundred dollars and several months waiting, the moment was here. What if he didn’t get the joke? What if he’s offended? What if he does get the joke? All these thoughts and more raced through your mind.

If it weren’t for the crush of people, you might have backed out of the whole thing. But before long, you were at the front of the autograph line and you spied Tom through the black makeshift curtain.

The attendant ushered you in to where Tom sat behind the table.

“Hello.” he said with a smile as he shook your hand.

“Hi.” you muttered, flustered by the whole ordeal.

You handed your commissioned piece of art for Tom to sign, while holding the postcards tight. Tom adjusted his glasses to get a better view.

“Is this…” he gave a smile. “Me and Luke Windsor?”

You chuckled. “Yes.”

Tom grabbed the Sharpie to sign. “He seems to be giving me quite the dress down. Your name?”

You gave it. “Oh here,” you slid the two postcard sized prints of the print towards him. “One for you and one for Luke.”

“Wow, thank you! I don’t think I have ever gotten a present for Mr. Windsor before. Are you his fan or mine?” Tom gave a wink.

“Both.”

“Fair enough.”

You walked away, but Tom yelled out one more comment. “I’ve heard there is a blog out there parodying Luke and I’s friendship.”

“I know. I write it.” you blushed as they hustled you out.

You spent the rest of that afternoon browsing through Artist’s Alley. You chatted with artists and snagged a few great prints and even caught a couple of the panels. As the night wound down, your name paged over the intercom. You headed to the information kiosk as the rest of the crowds shuffling towards the exit.

“Here.” the disinterested employee shoved a folded piece of paper in your hand. “Enjoy the rest of your stay.”

You furrowed your brow as you unfolded the paper. Scrawled on the paper it read:

Please join me at the restaurant in the hotel next door at 7 p.m.

T.H.

You read the note three times before shoving the note into your pocket. You checked your phone and saw you had about twenty minutes before seven.

After a few minutes in the bathroom to make sure you look presentable, you made the walk to the nearby hotel. Even with dawdling, you got there about five minutes early.

“Um…” you mumbled to the hostess. “… I’m supposed to meet someone at 7. I’m a little early but I…”

The hostess smiled and grabbed a menu. “Right this way.” She led you to a booth in the back. It looked empty from a distance, but as you approached, you saw Tom sitting there.

“Fu— Hi!” you caught yourself. Tom chuckled at your slip. “Sorry. I cursed like a well-educated sailor.”

“Quite all right. It is refreshing.” He gestured to the bench. “Please sit.”

You sat down a comfortable distance from him, fiddling with the tablecloth. “So can I ask a question?”

“Why did I ask to meet you?” Tom added.

“Yes. Listen if it is about the blog, I can delete it—”

“The blog is fine. But it is the reason I asked to meet you in a more private setting.”

“So why did you want to talk to me, if you are not mad about the blog?”

Tom thought for a moment. “I want to know why you started the blog. Call it morbid curiosity.”

You took a big sip of water as you thought about the answer. Tom sat staring at you.

“That is an excellent question. So as you are most likely aware, there is a lot of myth and legend surrounding…” you gestured around his head. “… all that is you. Most of it about how amazing and perfect you are.”

“Myth is an appropriate word.”

“So I wondered about who would be the person to kind of take Tom down a few pegs. Sorry for speaking about you like you are not here.”

Tom shook his head. “No need to apologize. And you thought of Luke?”

You chuckled. “There is a kind of collective head canon of Luke being an exasperated babysitter. The same energy as the mother of an overactive two-year-old.”

Tom laughed out loud. “I am now an overactive two-year-old?”

“Mixed with a labrador but with a better vocabulary.”

“Continue.”

“And well I just took on the persona and just kind of rip into the ‘perfection’ of well… you. Throw in a fair amount of cursing and that is my version of Luke.” you spat the last words out to finish the sentence before you lost your nerve.

Tom sat for a moment. You again twisted the tablecloth. Tom reached over to quiet your hands.

“There is nothing to be nervous about.” You let out a deep breath and gave a small smile. “The blog is delightful. Both Luke and I enjoy it immensely.”

“You read it?!? Luke reads it?! Shit!” you cursed.

“Most days, yes.”

“Um… thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I didn’t want to say anything in front of everyone on line. I didn’t want to embarrass you publicly.”

Your eyes widened. “Embarrass me?! Are you kidding? I was afraid of embarrassing you!”

“I’m flattered you are so concerned for my well-being.”

The waiter who had been lurking on the edges, came towards the table. “Will we be dining tonight?”

You stood. “I don’t want to take any more of your time. Thank you.”

“Please stay. You need to eat and I could use the company.”

“Are you sure?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I insist.” He smiled, eyes crinkling, and you sat back down.

The two of you ordered food, and the waiter stepped away. You leaned back in the booth.

“Interesting choice of food. I did not expect a salad.”

Tom held a finger up. “A steak salad.”

“You must like your fiber.”

“Says the person who order double veggies.”

“Hey! I happened to enjoy broccoli and asparagus. Not all of us are made from marble.”

“Tales of my body composition are greatly exaggerated. Merely flesh and blood.” He ran his hand up and down his body.

“Can I ask some questions?”

“Am I going to see the answers splashed on the interview?”

“Hold on!” you dug in your purse and pulled out a green notebook. Tom spied the large Loki sticker. “Not a word.” You ripped out a back page and began scribbling words.

“What on earth?” Tom leaned over to see what you are writing.

“Trust me, I’m a lawyer.”

“A sobering thought, a lawyer to telling you to trust them.”

You slid the paper over. Tom read over the words. “A non-disclosure agreement?”

“With a clause allowing me to discuss the contents of tonight’s dinner with my husband and closest friend.” Tom glanced at your wedding band.

“Very advantageous. For you. Is this even legal written on a page ripped from a Loki notebook.” Tom smirked.

“One, it’s a planner. Two, Like you honestly expect me to keep quiet? Are you insane? And three, the Star-Spangled Banner was penned on the back of an envelope. I think we are safe.”

“How American. Fair enough.” You both signed the agreement and Tom pocketed the paper. “Ask away.”

You looked him up and down, contemplating where to start.

“Do you ever wear anything that isn’t navy or black?”

“Rarely. But neither did Steve Jobs.”

“Touche.”

“How many days a week do you work out?”

“I run most days, other training three or four days a week. More if preparing for a role.”

“If you see me running, you better run too because I am being chased by something.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Favorite Beatle?”

“George.”

“Favorite Stone?”

“Keith or sand, depending on your meaning.”

“Smartass.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Favorite curse word?”

“Fuck.” Tom leaned in.

“Mine too, only second to douche canoe.”

“Ever get tired of questions about Loki?”

“Never.”

“Ever get tired of singing Hank songs?”

“Never.”

“Ever get tired?” you laughed.

“Every night. And sometimes in the afternoons.”

“Why is breakfast the best meal?”

“You’ve done your homework.”

“YouTube is a treasure trove.”

“Ah. Because it is the one meal of the day where eating dessert is considered socially acceptable.”

“Ever worked with people you didn’t like?”

“Yes.”

“Have any regrets?”

“No follow up to the co-worker?”

“No. I don’t to know who just that there are out there. Besides, there are two sides to every story. Now regrets?”

“Yes and no. I wished I had done certain things differently, but then I wouldn’t be the person I am today.”

“Excellent point.”

“Favorite alcoholic drink?”

“Nothing beats a good beer.”

“A man of simple taste. I prefer whiskey myself.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “Not the answer I expected.”

“Did you take me for a white wine spritzer girl?” Sexist.” you scoffed with a smile.

Tom held his hands up in defense. “Easy, just saying whiskey is not the first thing people offer as their drink of choice.”

“I am an enigma wrapped in a burrito.”

“That’s not the quote.”

“I know. I like mine better. Are really friends with Benedict Cumberbatch?”

“I hope so. I mean I was in his wedding.” He clutched his chest.

“The worst habit you have?”

“Cracking my knuckles.”

“Hence the red swollen knuckle.”

“You noticed that.”

“Your hands are prominent.”

“A nice word for big.”

You glared him down. “Are you always this self-deprecating?”

“I prefer the word ‘humble’.”

“Well, I prefer the word ‘bullshit’’.”

Tom opened his mouth to comment, but their food arrived. They thanked the waiter and started eating.

“How’s your salad?” you asked between bites.

“My steak is delicious. How are your veggies?”

“My chicken is superb.”

“I’m ready for round two of the inquisition.”

“Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.”

“Monty Python. Aren’t you a little young for that reference?”

“I’m a year older than you, Chuckles.”

“You don’t look a day over 25.”

“And you look like a liar. Do I need to show my driver’s license?”

“Identification would be nice.”

You grumbled as you dig for your wallet, fishing your ID out. You hold it up for him. “Satisfied?”

“Why are you covering up your address?”

“Because you could be a raving stalker lunatic.”

Tom laughed. “That’s my line.”

“Says the man who invited a complete stranger to dinner.”

“Anyway, I concede your age. Happy birthday by the way.”

You blushed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Still think you look younger.”

“I don’t take compliments well.”

“Sure you’re not British?”

“My birth certificate and hint of accent would say otherwise.”

“Do you have any more questions?”

“Will you stop interrupting?”

“Favorite Shakespeare play you haven’t acted in?”

Tom hissed. “That is like picking a favorite child.” He rubbed his chin in contemplation. “One of the comedies. Perhaps Much Ado About Nothing. I don’t know.”

“Do you ever watch yourself on the big screen?”

“Sometimes but not as much as I used to.”

“Why not?”

“Self-conscious. Not wanting to be recognized.”

“I can understand that.”

By then the waiter cleared the dishes, and the bill arrived. You both reached for it the same time. “Allow me.” Tom commented.

“I can pay my own way.” you lunged for the check but Tom held it out of reach.

“I invited you.”

“I never agreed to not paying.”

“Do you always argue this much?”

“I’m lawyer, of course I do. Just ask my husband. Are you always this stubborn?”

“I’m an actor, of course, I am. Just ask my publicist.” Tom parroted back.

You made another attempt to get the check, but Tom used his height to his full advantage.

“Fine.” you pouted. “Pay the bill.”

Tom smiled. “See how well things work out when I just get my way.”

“Spoken like a petulant child. Which brings us full circle.”

Tom’s head dipped as he laughed. “So it does, That is a good place to end the evening. Allow me to walk to your car?”

You nodded. “That would be nice, thank you.” You both slid out of the booth and headed outside. Tom walked next to you as made your way through the deserted parking lot. Tom pulled on a ball cap low over his eyes.

“Like that hides anything.” you muttered.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

You reached your car, and you fiddled your keys, your Loki key chain jangling. “This was…

nice.”

“It was. I often end up eating alone at these conventions.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“You get used to it.” Tom shrugged.

You extended a hand. “Goodnight, Tom.”

“Goodnight.” He took your hand and pulled you into a hug. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You opened your door.

“Are you here all weekend?” Tom asked, shuffling his feet.

“I am. Why?”

“Care to join me for dinner again tomorrow?”

“Be serious.”

“I am. I very much enjoyed your company and would like to enjoy it more. Besides, I haven’t gotten my chance to ask you questions.”

Your face fell. “Oh fuck.”

Tom rubbed his hands. “I’ll take that as a yes. Same time and place. Prepare yourself.”

You nodded. “Be nice.”

Tom turned around to face you as he walked away. “I’m always nice. Ask anybody. Except Luke. He thinks I’m a bastard.”

You laughed as you drove away.


End file.
